


eyes wide open

by strifelines



Series: no certain destination [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No.MERCY Era, Set in the first week of No.Mercy, this is kinda pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifelines/pseuds/strifelines
Summary: “You’re overthinking,” Hyungwon says. “Stop it.”A visit in the silent hours.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a big big big thank you to sadie, ramisa, and iva for all of your help;; could i ever have written this without you? (the answer is no. there is no yes option. thank you so so much, i love you)
> 
> if you know me at all, you'd have heard about the monstrous longfic i always cry about writing... this is, sadly, not that fic ahahah. it's still in the works, but as it nears completion, i figure i might as well post this as a teaser. thank you for being so patient with me all the time!
> 
>  
> 
> **CWs: implied sexual content?**

No.Mercy is a million times more stressful than he’d imagined it would be.    


 

  
The trainees move into the new dorm a week before filming starts. There are so many people trying to cram themselves into the space that it seems claustrophobic, even though it isn’t really. He barely even gets the chance to talk to anyone save for snapping at them to get their stuff out of his space (or being snapped at). It’s hard to adjust, breathing around eleven other kids that don’t know shit about what they’re doing, and they don’t spend enough time at home to learn how to.   
  


 

The real hell begins when the filming starts, though. They’ve got cameras trained on them _all day_ , and it makes Gunhee’s skin crawl. The final cut will condense an entire week’s worth of filming into an hour; seven days of interaction and training and _living_ , all pressed into a compact little package. Gunhee is hyperaware of everything he does or says, knowing that it can be taken out of context and placed in the episode bare and dry. It could ruin everything, and for someone like Gunhee, raw and bare, it’s one of the most stressful things about the show other than the actual evaluations. It’s hard enough not glancing at the cameras every few seconds, constantly on edge; they barely ever catch a break, save for when they return to the dorm late at night.    
  


 

He’s not the only one aware of how critical the filming is. It would have been amusing to see everyone clean up their act if he hadn’t been so stressed out about it himself: Wonho stops staying out late, and he catches Kihyun and Minhyuk with their heads bent close to each other whispering about what they need to do to stand out when they think everyone’s asleep. Jooheon spends the first two days panicking, the next two bluffing, and the rest in a strange mix of the two. Minkyun is similar. The only one that seems to be dealing with it relatively well is Kwangji, and even then, it’s not like he’s an angel: he’s tetchy too. Just way less than any of the others are.   
  


 

All of it melts away when they’re assigned _numbers_.   
  


 

“As if a performance is a measure of how good you are,” Seokwon mutters to Yoonho on the way home, nearly in tears. Gunhee doesn’t strain his ears to hear what Yoonho mumbles back. He’s number 5; what can he say to number 11?    


 

  
(Gunhee’s number 7, an infinity away from number 1. He’s not even in the top three.)   
  


 

But it’s just the first evaluation, isn’t it? It’s just the first. It stings, but if _Kihyun_ is ranked lower than him despite being, arguably, their best vocal, then it’s not that bad, is it? It’s going to be okay. He’ll show them, come the first mission rankings; he’s gonna be _fine_. This is what he tells himself, forceful and stubborn, and after the shock wears off, the determination settles in him to stay.   
  


 

He decides to stay at the company for longer to practice, after that. He only has the time to go back home to his mother once, and he’s infinitely grateful for it. Tasting her cooking again and being able to talk to his sister on the phone calms his nerves. Clears his head. The next morning, he decides what song he’s going to perform.   


 

  
The others don’t press him when he says he wants to stay back, heading straight for one of the workrooms after showering. He spends hours practicing, writing new lyrics, improvisations to the original; it’s been long enough that his tongue stumbles on the words, and he has to keep everything fucking _perfect_. He’s mostly thankful for the isolation: he doesn’t have to worry about being quiet so as to keep from waking his mother up. It feels – not good, in the end, to practice something heavy, loaded like this, in the dorms.   


 

  
No one comes to bother him, either. He’s only interrupted in the middle of throwing together lyrics for something else. He doesn’t know if it’s going to evolve into a song or stay unused, like the three other notebooks he has on his shelf at home – not the dorm, but his family’s home. He’s spent long enough in the relative peace that the knock on the door startles him; when he checks the time on the monitor, it reads 23:04.   
  


 

“Go away,” he groans, half-jokingly. “I’m staying the night—”

 

  
To his surprise, it isn’t Jooheon like he expected, or Wonho, or even Shownu. It’s Hyungwon, one of the last people he would expect to see at this hour, let alone in a _workroom._ Even more shocking is that he’s alone.    
  


 

There’s no real reason for Hyungwon to come to see him all on his own. Gunhee doesn’t even see him all that often in the dorm; they stay on opposite ends of the room when they’re in the same one. The most he sees of him is in the kitchen, brushing past him after getting a glass of water; or sleeping, curled up against someone else, or wrapped up in a blanket with the air conditioner on full blast, only his head poking out of the cocoon. Sometimes—when they’re in dance class, he catches himself staring at the fluidity of Hyungwon’s movements in the mirror.    
  


 

That’s about it. They co-exist, and that’s—understandable, isn’t it, considering how busy they both are? There’s no more time to spend with each other like they used to do when no one else was available to fill the silence. They used to fit alright. (He stomps down the memory of the last time they spent more than five minutes in the same room, like he always does whenever he sees Hyungwon across the room and ends up thinking of how he'd touched him, how he'd let Gunhee touch him – focused on each other, breathing the same air, breathing in each other’s air—)   
  


 

Gunhee almost thinks he’s headed here (lost his way?) right after practice, but he doesn’t smell of sweat; maybe he took a shower, or, he doesn’t know, changed his clothes or something. He’s wearing a soft, oversized hoodie, and his damp hair is pushed away from his forehead. It’s not a good look; it’s just a normal, everyday look that Gunhee has seen on Hyungwon and on a million other people in passing. It’s not important enough to _notice_ , but here he is, noticing what he looks like, _how_  he looks like, the outline of his frame in the doorway, the folds of the hoodie hanging off his frame and covering his hands.    
  


 

Hyungwon ducks his head, as if shy. It's only then Gunhee notices he's been staring.    
  


 

“Hey.” He steps forward but not _inside_  proper. He’s smiling – or maybe that’s just how his lips shape when he presses them together. It’s a habit of his, but Gunhee’s never really paid attention to it; it’s like how one could pass by the same building on the way home for years and years but never know what’s inside. “Are you gonna just stare at me?”    
  


 

Caught out. This time, Gunhee's the one that ducks his head, laughing it off nervously; he can't help but think he's a clumsy fucking idiot. Hyungwon closes the door behind him with a soft click, leaning against it so that his hip juts out; Gunhee's gaze strays to the long line of his body against his will, lingering on the thumb Hyungwon's kept pressed on the lock.   
  


 

“I wasn’t… expecting—" Anyone? _This_? Gunhee can’t decide, so he ends up just shrugging and trailing off. Suddenly, he wants to hide the monitor, keep Hyungwon from seeing the lyrics he's been working on. It’s not like he makes him _uncomfortable_ or anything stupid like that; definitely not.    
  


 

It’s just that Hyungwon hasn't talked to him – hasn't even _looked_ at him – for days and days. He doesn't know _why_ : Hyungwon hadn't spoken to him for long enough, after, to ask. Gunhee had tried to be dismissive about it and failed, but he's justified, really, in a sense, because who sleeps with someone else they see almost every day and then refuses to breathe in their direction? He deserves better than that, doesn't he?    
  


 

"What are you doing here?" Gunhee asks, but it comes out too quickly to pass off as nonchalant. He digs himself deeper by blurting out: “It’s late. Why haven’t you gone back home yet?”   
  


 

Hyungwon shrugs. “For the same reason you’re here.”    
  


 

Gunhee licks his lips. There’s something very _off_ about all of this; maybe it’s just the leftover bitterness speaking, but it’s a little weird when someone that pretends you don’t exist suddenly comes into your workroom late at night with no excuse. Or maybe Hyungwon does have an excuse, and he’s waiting for Gunhee to say something stupid so he can throw it in his face. He doesn’t know.    
  


 

Maybe he stayed behind to practice with his friends; it’s not out of the question, especially at this time. Hyungwon’s rank is low. Gunhee’s losing to Jooheon. If Hyungwon and Gunhee can, then why can’t others?   
  


 

But then, if he was with his friends, then why would Hyungwon come to Gunhee at all?   
  


 

“For practice?” Gunhee tries, when the silence stretches for a beat too long. Hyungwon exhales a soft laugh (at least, he thinks it is one) and pushes himself off the door. Steps closer, until Gunhee feels almost crowded in.    
  


 

“Can I,” he says, trailing off. Gunhee can’t think of a smart retort for how his heart is thudding, but Hyungwon doesn’t let him anyway; he braces a hand on the back of Gunhee’s chair, resting his wrist hard on Gunhee’s shoulder. Eyes wide, the both of them, like they’re at a crime scene.   


 

  
Then he's leaning down, reaching to tip Gunhee's face towards him. His fingers fit in all the natural handholds: the soft spot behind his ear, his temple, his cheekbone, his jaw. Distantly, Gunhee is aware of how cool his hands are: not cold, just pleasant. It might be from the air conditioner in the practice rooms. Hyungwon’s hands are usually warm.   


 

  
_What the fuck,_  is Gunhee’s first thought, and then, a little aborted: _why_? But he’s suddenly frozen in place, terrified about this being a dream just as much as he’s terrified of it being _real_. It’s not something slotting into place: it’s out of the blue and _confusing_ , because there isn’t… he hasn’t… they haven’t even talked after the one time. He almost touches Hyungwon, but then he stops himself at the last second, clutching onto his knees instead of _stopping_ him, because…    


 

  
It’s so slow that Gunhee thinks Hyungwon is trying to torture him. Or give him a chance to back out. Probably torture him. He brushes their noses together, first, and then his mouth dips, catching in the shape of Gunhee's but not actually kissing him. All the questions die on his lips, stolen from him by the warmth of Hyungwon's mouth, his breath. They're still _there_ , a constant whisper at the back of his mind, but he can't bring himself to string the words together. He's not even sure whether to close his eyes or keep them open. The rhythm of it is almost drowsy, though, so he ends up with the former.   


 

  
They break apart just long enough for Hyungwon to whisper ‘relax’, feather-light and almost inaudible. It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but Gunhee has spent long enough with Hyungwon to pick out his tone. It’s the same one his voice takes on when he’s trying hard not to be annoyed. It mostly shows up when he’s trying to talk to Kihyun, but Gunhee has been on the receiving end of it, too: when Hyungwon is exasperated with him for not cooperating in practice; or when, while having dinner with the other trainees after a long day, Gunhee complains about how spicy his food is and Hyungwon, sitting next to him, tells him that he can’t _afford_ to complain, just eat it. Things like that.   


 

  
The difference is that all those times were normal. _Safe._ He doesn’t know what Hyungwon is annoyed at this time; at whatever made him seek him out (instead of someone else? Would he seek out someone else, if Gunhee hadn’t been there?), or at Gunhee himself for not playing along with his whims and taking too long to catch up.   
  


 

“Wait, wait, stop,” he manages. The cold comes rushing in when Hyungwon straightens. He hadn’t meant to make it sound so urgent, but Hyungwon’s expression is unreadable; maybe it’s the light, or the fact that Gunhee can’t keep his eyes off his lips, or even just that stringing logical thought together is pretty difficult with the imprint of warmth still on his body. The pressure of his wrist on Gunhee’s shoulder eases, just a bit. “What… what are you doing, I don’t… understand.”   


 

  
“Kissing you.” As if he needed any more reason to feel stupid. Hyungwon gnaws at the inside of his cheek, and then finally adds, so quiet that Gunhee almost doesn’t hear: “do you want me to stop?”   
  


 

“No,” Gunhee snaps, a bit too quickly, “but…”    
  


 

“But?”   
  


 

_But_  he doesn’t know. _But_  this is unexpected, because he thought it was a one time thing, and he doesn’t understand _why_  Hyungwon’s coming to him again. It’s too late at night and he’s not even sure if Hyungwon planned this, if he sent his friends home because he knew Gunhee was working, or if this was just a coincidence and Gunhee’s reading too much into things he vowed to let lie. It was fine back then and now he’s waiting for an opportunity to gain the upper hand because _fuck_ , he doesn’t want to be this weak for _Hyungwon_  of all people, but even if it presented itself he’s not sure if he could take it.    
  


 

Except Hyungwon is here, and he was so warm against him, and all thoughts Gunhee’s been harbouring over the past few days about not responding to him if he ever reached out are being chased away. It’s just the effect he has on Gunhee, effortless, and he… hates it, just a bit. It makes him feel clumsy and stupid and lucky all at once.    
  


 

At the continued silence, Hyungwon’s scrutiny eases. Without the slight furrow to his brow, he looks sleepy and sweet and not at all like what Gunhee knows him to be. This is only proved when he pushes Gunhee’s chair backwards, until it thunks against the desk, and— fucking— slides into his lap. Just like that. “Then shut up,” he says decisively, settling down.   
  


 

How can he keep himself from responding? Touching Hyungwon might break the spell, might even scare him away — if he’s even allowed to put his hands anywhere — but he _wants_ to so badly – especially since he’s been stiff and useless for this long. 

 

He places his hands on Hyungwon’s thighs, feeling the shape of them out, but even that feels like it might be _too much_  because Hyungwon hasn’t _told him_ to— and fuck, fuck, he’s in Gunhee’s _lap_  and _kissing him_  and he’s still tense and maybe a bit scared because he doesn’t _understand_ , he never expected...

 

But instead of moving away, he stays, all of his warm weight steady and constant. Gunhee would take anything: even sitting there and letting Hyungwon do what he wants, take what he wants, and then go. The lack of a protest, though, makes him just a little bit more confident. His hands steady out.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, a little belatedly. “Yeah, okay.” Then, hesitantly: “I wanna… can I...”

 

  
“Yeah,” Hyungwon echoes, so close that he’s almost whispering it into his mouth. He catches Gunhee’s lower lip in between both of his, and his lips are so _soft_. Then there's pressure, just a hint of it, like a tease. 

  
  


He leads him into the lazy sort of kiss that pushes and pulls as if they have all the time in the world. It swells Gunhee’s lips with a pleasant tingle, bloodrush and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. He can taste the waxy remnants of Hyungwon’s chapstick on him, and he can't get enough of it. It’s a different chapstick than the one he could taste all those days ago; he didn’t think he could remember, but he does (that one had been flavoured). They don't use teeth, but there's only just enough tongue to make the catch of Gunhee's chapped lips on Hyungwon's less uncomfortable and more _interesting_ , like a match rubbing against the box just before it ignites.    
  


 

Gunhee can't shake off how strange it feels to be kissed so sweetly by Hyungwon of all people. It's almost as if this is a dream – and in this light, at this hour, Gunhee could convince himself it is, if he wanted. Hyungwon is all gauze wrapped around bone, gold and blue. When he gathers the courage to hold him by the hips, slowly so he won't pull away, there is no resistance. In fact, Hyungwon _lets_ him – just keeps on kissing him in that slow, mind-numbing manner of his.    
  


 

But that’s not the only thing he does: he’s starting to rock his hips, pushing and pulling to the same beat of his lips, of their breathing, speeding up as he goes. It’s more familiar than Gunhee had expected. The push of his hips, insistent, against his own is addictive, just shy of being _good enough_ , and suddenly he wants to take control: pull Hyungwon close and help him rub against himself, artless and desperate and _hot_. But no – he has to control himself; he can’t act on the urge to do so because it might push Hyungwon away. Hyungwon might decide that he doesn’t want to do this with someone so _eager_ , and that. That would be bad. He doesn’t want to disappoint him. He doesn’t want to be anything but the _best_ , so he has to _wait_ , and be _patient_ , like Hyungwon told him to be last time.   
  


 

The catch and drag and the steady, slow grind of Hyungwon’s hard cock onto Gunhee’s through their clothing isn’t heavy enough yet to feel _good._ Not in the way that makes Gunhee’s thought processes evaporate. He takes a breath. Slides his trembling hands up to Hyungwon waist, rubbing at his skin through his t-shirt, and then (when Hyungwon only makes this soft, soft sound against his mouth and presses closer instead of telling him to stop) up the ladder of the knobs of his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck, where he can feel Hyungwon’s short hair against the pads of his fingertips.    
  


 

(That's even stranger. Hyungwon hadn't let him touch his hair the first time, and doesn't like being touched there even normally. He shied away from Gunhee whenever he used to try to ruffle it, even before they were together like this. It’s _weird_. This bubbling feeling rises in him, of unease and trepidation, like it’s a trap—)    
  


 

“Why,” he can’t help but ask when they part, “are you doing this, I thought it was a…”   
  


 

He quiets at the look on Hyungwon’s face, feeling clumsy and stupid and a little like he’s disappointed him. A small part of him knows he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but – he’s not _wrong_ , is he? That’s what Hyungwon told him back then. That’s what they _agreed on_ , and he’s just… making sure. There’s no way to take what he said back, anyway. Stomping down the urge to brush it off, he drops his hands to Hyungwon’s shoulders. Keeps them there. “You said it was a one time thing.”   
  


 

“I know.”   
  


 

Gunhee swallows. Looks at him, comfortable on his lap, hands warmed up from Gunhee’s body. His expression is still pinched with annoyance at the interruption. A part of Gunhee understands his irritation: so fucking what if he said it was a one time thing? They can’t see the future, can they? Sometimes these things happen, and they don’t have to mean anything. The first time didn’t mean anything. This won’t, either.   
  


 

But it’s almost midnight, and they’re in the middle of filming No.Mercy, and their futures aren’t quite so hazy anymore. They either win or lose, and that’s – important, somehow, he thinks. Things changed after they slept together the first time, but that’s what was supposed to happen anyway, right? It would have been weird if things didn’t change. It’s because of who they are. But continued silence would have been better than the sidelong glances, with the way he can’t seem to keep his eyes off Hyungwon now that he doesn’t ever look back at him.   
  


 

And the first time had been angry. Rushed and hurried and angry, and this… this isn’t. Is Gunhee the only one out of his depth, confused at the strange exploration of this time? Is he making things up in his head?    
  


 

“You’re overthinking,” Hyungwon says. “Stop it.”   
  


 

“Do you want me?”   
  


 

His heart skips several beats in panic when Hyungwon’s lip curls, a prelude to him moving as if to shuffle off of him. On reflex, he tightens his grip on his shoulders in a bid to keep him on top of himself. Doesn’t know how to react when it works. “Answer me,” he breathes, half-terrified of Hyungwon’s displeasure and half-drunk off the power he has to keep him still, even if it’s just brute strength.   
  


 

He has to know. He _has_  to know, and it takes Hyungwon a moment but he gives him his answer – lower lip sucked into his mouth before he says it, quieter than he’s been all this time, so Gunhee has to lean in to hear: “I want you.”   
  


 

As soon as Gunhee’s grip loosens, Hyungwon climbs out of his lap. A protest rises to the tip of Gunhee’s tongue, and his heart jumps to his throat again.   
  


 

“Now stop talking,” Hyungwon murmurs, and drops to his knees in between Gunhee’s spread legs, his deft hands going straight for the fly of his jeans, and all Gunhee can focus on is the heat of his hands, how _nice_ his fingers are.    
  


 

Then it sinks in: the fact Hyungwon’s _here_ , one hand on Gunhee’s thigh, and the other— and his mouth—   
  


 

He stops talking.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ;; your time and comments are so, so appreciated!!


End file.
